Chapter 6 - THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE
A tiny red light blinked to life on the baby monitor.
Every word spoken in the nursery was now broadcasting in high-definition surround sound directly into the living room, where Brent and Victor Vance were sitting with their after-dinner scotch.
Sierra hadn’t noticed. She was too focused on the flash drive in my pocket, completely secure in her arrogance.
“You’re out of your depth, Elise,” Sierra sneered, setting her wine glass on the changing table. “Brent is a gullible fool, and you’re just a quiet little housewife who thought she could play in the big leagues. Give me the drive.”
I kept my voice perfectly level, ensuring every word was enunciated clearly for the hidden audience downstairs.
“You want the drive that proves Brent has been embezzling money to fund your lifestyle?” I asked. “The drive that proves Victor Vance set up the shell company Apex Solutions to artificially inflate the warehouse debts?”
Sierra rolled her eyes. “Yes, Elise. The drive that proves Brent is a criminal. The beautiful part is, his signature is on every single fraudulent wire transfer. When my father calls the loan due tomorrow, Brent will face federal indictments. We’re going to bleed him dry, take the Avery properties, and leave him with nothing. And he’s so stupid, he actually thanked my father for the opportunity over the appetizers.”
Downstairs, the house went dead silent.
“You seduced a married man just to ruin him,” I said, twisting the knife.
“I didn't seduce him,” Sierra laughed cruelly. “I barely had to try. Brent is so desperate to feel important, he practically handed me the keys to his life. He’s pathetic. Now, give me the drive, or I swear I will have my father’s security team drag you out of this house by your hair.”
Before I could respond, the heavy wooden door of the nursery flew open so violently it cracked the drywall.
Brent stood in the doorway.
His face was completely drained of color. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and frantic. He looked like a man who had just watched his own execution on live television.
Behind him, standing in the hallway with a face carved from stone, was Victor Vance.
“Brent...” Sierra stammered, stepping back, her confidence instantly evaporating.
“You broadcasted it,” Brent choked out, looking at the glowing red light on the baby monitor. He turned his horrified gaze to Sierra. “You’re Vance’s daughter?”
“Brent, listen to me—” Sierra started.
“Shut up!” Brent roared, stepping toward her. “You set me up! The loans, the shell companies—you made me sign those papers!”
“You signed them because you were greedy, son,” Victor Vance said, his deep, gravelly voice echoing in the hallway. Vance didn't look angry; he looked disappointed that his daughter had been caught. He stepped into the nursery, ignoring Brent entirely, and looked directly at me.
“You have your father’s spine, Elise,” Vance said quietly. “Russell Avery raised a very dangerous woman.”
“Get out of my house, Victor,” I said, standing my ground.
“The house is collateral,” Vance reminded me smoothly. “And my men are currently clearing out your warehouse inventory. You played a good trick with the baby monitor, but audio recordings won't stop a foreclosure. Hand over the ledger drive, Elise. Don't make me hurt Russell’s daughter.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Audio recordings won't stop a foreclosure.”
I reached into my pocket. Brent lunged forward, desperate, but Vance’s massive hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him back effortlessly.
I didn't pull out the flash drive.
I pulled out my phone.
“But the police might,” I said.
I tapped the screen, unlocking the video feed from the warehouse security cameras. I turned the phone around so Vance could see.
The screen showed the loading docks of the downtown warehouse. Vance’s trucks were there, but they weren't loading inventory.
The loading bay was swarming with flashing red and blue lights. Dozens of heavily armed police officers and federal agents were arresting Vance’s men, throwing them against the sides of the trucks.
Vance’s stoic expression finally cracked. “What did you do?”
“Answer one, open two,” I said coldly. “When I found the shell company documents in Brent’s safe an hour ago, I didn't just run. I took photos of the invoices and sent them to Marcus. Marcus called the FBI financial crimes division. They’ve been building a RICO case against you for two years, Victor. Brent’s fraudulent transfer was the final piece of evidence they needed for a warrant. They’re seizing your trucks right now.”
Vance stared at the screen, the reality of his empire collapsing settling over him.
Sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder as they approached our residential street.
“They aren't just at the warehouse, Victor,” I said softly. “They’re coming here.”
Sierra panicked. She shoved past Brent, desperately trying to run for the stairs, but the heavy thud of police boots was already echoing on the front porch.
Brent fell to his knees in the center of the nursery, his hands clutching his head. His victory dinner had turned into his public execution, exactly as I had planned.
“Elise,” Brent begged, tears streaming down his face as the police slammed the front door open downstairs. “Elise, please. Tell them I didn't know. Tell them she manipulated me. We can fix this. I love you.”
May you like
I looked down at the man who had brought his mistress into my home, who had tried to bankrupt my family, and who had given me thirty minutes to pack my life.
“You have thirty seconds to call a lawyer, Brent,” I said, walking past him. “I suggest you pack.”
